


A Sudden Running Out Of Road

by Kerkerian



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, logical family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 21:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerkerian/pseuds/Kerkerian
Summary: Cody is gravely injured, but he is not the only one who suffers.





	A Sudden Running Out Of Road

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Riptide.

He was staring at light green stripes and someone was talking to him, but it was difficult to listen or make sense of what he was seeing. Only when his name was being repeated with more force and there was a hand on his arm as well did he manage to pull himself out of his stupor and look at the person instead of the curtains in the waiting room: it was Murray, and his face was equally dismayed and grave. “Nick,” he said again. “Are you with me now?”

Nick nodded, though he felt too numb to know if that was even true. But he kept his eyes on Murray, who regarded him with concern: “Don't you wanna go and wash up?”

Nick didn't follow his meaning until Murray looked down on his hands and he did too. They were still full of dried blood, as was his shirt. It was Cody's blood, and the sight kicked his brain into gear: “I'm not leaving,” he said, because it was imperative that Murray understood. And he did, apparently, because his expression softened: “I'm not asking you to leave. Let's just find a restroom so you can...” He broke off, gesturing towards Nick's hands. Nick looked at them again, unable to make a decision, therefore Murray took his arm: “Come on.”

“What if someone comes to talk to us?” Nick said, resisting his friend's attempt to pull him along.

“It's only been twenty minutes,” Murray said gently. “I don't think... I think it'll take a little longer.”

Nick didn't look convinced, but Murray was stronger than he looked. “Come on,” he repeated. “We'll be quick.”

Fortunately, there was a restroom nearby. As he washed his hands, Nick stared at the water, reddened from the blood and bubbly from the soap, which made for a rather grotesque picture, and suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He only just made it to the nearest stall before he threw up. Afterwards, he was shaking so hard that he had to support himself against the partition wall; moments later, Murray was there with a wet paper towel and a steadying hand.

“Thank you,” Nick ground out, grateful for his friend's presence.

Once he had himself back under control, they returned to the waiting room. Nick was still shaky, but he couldn't sit down. Not when he didn't know how Cody was doing. Murray, who had folded himself into one of the chairs, watched him pacing up and down; he looked as anxious and dispirited as Nick felt. They didn't talk, since there was nothing to say, and every time Nick looked at his watch, only a few more minutes had passed.

They had been waiting for more than three hours when Joanna Parisi came hurrying in shortly after nine p.m.

“I only just heard,” she said instead of a greeting. “How is he?”

“We don't know yet,” Murray said softly, getting to his feet and allowing himself to be kissed on the cheek. “We've been waiting since we arrived here.”

“Did someone take your statements?”

“Yes.”

Nick didn't say anything, but at least he stopped pacing. When Joanna turned towards him, her face full of concern and sympathy, he suddenly felt near tears, and he didn't resist when she hugged him despite his bloodied shirt.

Another hour passed until finally, an exhausted looking surgeon came out to talk to them.

“I'm Dr. Matthews, I've operated on Mr. Allen. The gunshot wound he has sustained caused damage to the lung and the liver as well as the thoracic artery, resulting in a pneumothorax and a haemothorax. Meaning, in layman's terms, a collapsed lung and an accumulation of blood in the pleural cavity. We've inserted a chest tube to drain the thorax and reinflate the lung, removed the bullet and repaired the damage, and he's receiving blood transfusions because of the massive blood loss.”

“So is he going to be okay?” Nick asked, unable to keep his fear out of his voice; there was something in the doctor's expression that was increasing his nervousness.

Dr. Matthews cleared his throat: “The next twenty-four hours are going to be critical. The wound was near fatal, and we had to resuscitate once during surgery. Frankly, it's rare that someone survives this kind of injury.” He paused, sounding almost apologetic: “If there is anyone you feel should be notified, I'd advise you to do so.”

Blindly, Nick reached out for something or someone to hold on to, because his knees buckled and his blood was rushing in his ears. Quickly, Joanna stepped towards him and supported him: “Easy,” she said softly, “deep breaths.”

Murray, whose face was drained of all colour, looked from his friends to the doctor: “When can we see him?” His voice sounded choked. _Sweet Murray_, some detached part of Nick's mind thought.

“Not tonight, I'm afraid,” Dr. Matthews replied. “He's in recovery now and will be transferred to the ICU afterwards.”

Not even Joanna could persuade him to make an exception. Once he was gone, Nick, who was still holding on to her with a vice-like grip though he didn't even notice it, closed his eyes for a moment: “I better call his mom,” he said hoarsely once he had opened them again.

“There's a pay phone down the hall,” Murray said slowly, as if in a trance. “Do you want me to come with you?”

At that, Nick reached for him, and as Murray moved towards them, folded his arm around him and pulled him close. “Thanks, Boz,” he whispered. “You're the best friend a guy could ask for.” They stayed like that for a long time, Joanna, Murray and Nick, trying to find strength in each other to deal with this devastating situation.

“I should go make the call,” Nick eventually muttered. “You stay here, Murray, I'll be fine.”

At the sight of the pay phone however, he nearly faltered. It was after midnight in Minneapolis, Mrs. Allen was probably already in bed, unaware of the bad news she was going to get.

He took a deep breath and eased the receiver off the cradle: he knew the number by heart. It had never been more difficult to dial it.

Nick and Murray stayed at the hospital, if in a different waiting room. If they weren't going to be allowed to see Cody, they wanted at least to be close, anything else was unfeasible. Nick had finally sat down, in the early hours of the morning, and was staring at his hands while Murray had long since fallen asleep, huddled in the corner of one of the couches. Joanna had left, promising to be back soon.

Nick's mind was reeling: he kept replaying the short conversation with Cody's mother in his head, kept seeing Cody going down because the guy they had just wanted to talk to had suddenly drawn a gun, kept asking himself what the last words he had said to his partner had been.

He was tired, but he wouldn't have dreamed of trying to sleep even though his eyes felt gritty and raw. Whenever he closed them for a while to get some relief, he only saw Cody lying in his own blood, felt it seeping through his fingers as he tried to staunch it, so he got up again, resuming his pacing instead.

He tried not to think of Cody alone in the ICU, feeling his heart constrict with longing and despair every time he did. He tried not to think of this as Cody's last night on earth, but the terrible fear that had settled in his stomach was messing with his ability to think straight. Every time he couldn't bear it any longer, he went to the nurses' station to ask how Cody was doing. Four times, he got the same cautious answer that they were monitoring him closely and that he was resting comfortably.

The fifth time, just before six in the morning, the nurse on duty looked him up and down and apparently felt sorry for him: “So far, his vitals have remained stable,” she said kindly. “I can allow one short visit, but not like that, I'm afraid.” She motioned towards his blood-stained shirt.

Nick, who was trembling with the prospect of finally seeing Cody, was confused: “So what do I do?”

In the end, the nurse found some scrubs for him he could put on. He also had to wash his hands again before she let him in, but he didn't mind as long as he was going to see Cody.

It was an intimidating sight. His partner looked pallid and lifeless, a frail figure surrounded by machines. There were several lines disappearing beneath his gown, and he was connected to a number of different IVs. Nick had seen Cody in the hospital before, but not like this. His pale face seemed too still, and the whole scene was just wrong.

Almost timidly, Nick touched Cody's hand with his fingers, caressing it gently: “Hey, Baby,” he said softly, though his voice was so choked by sudden tears that it was difficult to get the words out. “I know you're not doing so good right now, but... we need you to be strong. You've always been strong, you can get through this.” He wiped his eyes: “I need you, Cody. I love you so much, I can't live without you. So this is probably selfish, but...” He paused, wrapping his fingers around Cody's: “Stay with me, okay? Please, Baby.”

He broke off, feeling that he was he babbling. Only seconds later, the nurse came to tell him that he had to leave. For a desperate, unhinged moment, Nick thought he couldn't even move. What if this was the last time he had seen Cody alive? Panic swept through him so strongly that his knees were threatening to buckle again.

“Sir?” The nurse's voice sounded concerned. Nick took a deep breath: “I'm okay,” he said feebly, looking at Cody once more. He wanted to kiss him, to hold on to him, but that was impossible.

So he just squeezed Cody's hand, feeling that it was inadequate but the best he could do under the circumstances, and kept turning back to take one more look, knowing that it wasn't enough by far. It hurt so much that the pain was almost physical.

Murray was just sitting up, blinking and squinting, as Nick returned to the waiting room. “Nick, what-”

“I was allowed to see him,” Nick said, sitting down next to Murray because his knees still felt like jelly. “Only very briefly, but...” He took a shuddering breath: “They say his vitals remained stable. He's white as a sheet, Boz...”

Wordlessly, Murray put his arm around Nick until he had regained his composure.

“Should we try to find some coffee?” Murray then asked.

Nick rubbed a hand over his face: “Yeah.”

“You look like a doctor,” Murray said. Nick looked down at what he was wearing: “I think the nurse took pity on me.”

Luckily for him, Joanna, who came in a little later, had made a stop over at the _Riptide_. She knew where they were hiding their spare key, and she had brought a fresh shirt for him. It was Cody's, but he didn't say anything, and neither did Murray. Nick freshened up and shaved, since Joanna had also brought some toiletries. His hands were shaking as he took up Cody's shirt, and for a moment, he just held it to his face and breathed in Cody's scent.

Nick had hoped to be allowed in once more, maybe even stay with Cody for some time, but the nurse who was on duty after the morning's change of shifts kindly informed him that the doctor's rounds were due first.

So he resigned himself to more waiting. Murray, who had also freshened up in the meantime, joined him in the waiting room, while Joanna had to get to work. “Please, call me when you know more,” she said before she left, which they promised.

Murray looked as weary as Nick felt. He began pacing again, simply to pass the time, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw a doctor hurrying into the ICU. Unthinkingly, he walked towards the nurses' station at the entrance, but was denied information. He tried to catch a glimpse of what was going on when one of the nurses opened the door to go in, but he couldn't see anything.

Discouraged, he stayed there until finally, an unaccounted amount of time later, the doctor and two nurses came out again. In the meantime, Murray had joined him; when Nick had simply walked off and didn't come back, he had gone to investigate.

Nick wanted to ask if Cody was alright, but his voice wouldn't obey. Luckily for him, one of the nurses recognized him from earlier; in an undertone, she said something to the doctor, who then turned towards Nick and Murray: “My name is Dr. Selby. I understand you're Mr. Allen's next of kin?”

“Yes,” Murray answered, since Nick still could only look and wait, trying to glean information from the man's expression and feeling paralyzed with fear at the same time.

“Very well. Mr. Allen's vitals have been stable so far, and he even woke up briefly earlier, but there is cause for concern.”

There was a strange buzzing in Nick's ears. Cody had woken up and he hadn't been there. And now he was getting worse, as though it hadn't been bad enough before. Nick tried to listen as the doctor said something about a negative reaction to the antibiotics Cody was receiving, which in turn was causing fever and heart arrhythmia, and he understood that they were currently changing the medication in order to manage the complications, but that Dr. Selby felt he had to make it clear that he was not promising anything.

Bile rose up in Nick's throat and he desperately tried to get a grip on himself, unaware that he was inching closer to Murray until their arms touched. He swallowed a few times: “His mother is on her way here,” he said, his voice brittle even in his own ears.

The doctor nodded: “Very well,” he repeated.

“Can we see him?” Murray now asked, glancing at Nick.

Dr. Selby seemed to contemplate this as he regarded them with unconcealed sympathy: “Certainly, if not for too long.”

“Thank you.” Murray sounded relieved.

Nick only nodded.

One of the nurses took them to Cody's cubicle. He looked as still and inanimate as before, but there were tell-tale hues of fever on his cheeks, and Nick thought that the machines sounded different now. Though that was possibly down to his imagination. He didn't know what to think anymore, he just wanted this nightmare to end, and he was glad that Murray was with him. Admittedly, Murray sometimes got on his nerves with his high-pitched giggling and his often odd sense of humour, but now he was quiet and solemn and appeared much more composed than Nick himself felt.

They stood on either side of Cody's bed, and Nick felt his eyes getting moist again. It just wasn't right, being unable to do anything. He took Cody's hand in his again and saw that Murray was doing the same.

“Hey, Cody,” Murray said after a few glances at Nick, who didn't seem able to speak. “We've been here all night, but they didn't allow any visitors earlier. Well, Nick was with you for a few minutes, but that's all. Just so you know you weren't alone.” He fell silent.

Nick's eyes were brimming by now and he blinked, hating how prone to tears he had become all of a sudden, but unable to stop it. He just looked at Cody's familiar, beloved features and held onto his hand firmly, which was all he could do when simply staying upright was an effort right now.

But then Cody moved, if ever so infinitesimal, and a small, minuscule frown appeared on his face, soon smoothing out again.

“Did you see that?” Murray asked excitedly.

Nick nodded, his gaze still firmly on Cody. For a while, nothing happened, then Cody actually blinked and opened his eyes. He didn't look particularly awake, but when his gaze fell upon Nick, there was an unmistakable change in his expression. Murray went to notify the staff, but Nick kept staring at Cody, reaching for his face with his free hand, and shakily caressed his cheek. Cody sighed at that and his eyes closed again, but Nick was certain that he had recognized him, and for a moment there, it had definitely looked like a smile. Faint, weak and brief, but a smile.

“I love you,” Nick whispered, keeping his hand on Cody's face until Murray returned with a nurse.

They had to leave Cody's side when the doctor returned to check on him a while later.

“I'll give Joanna a call then,” Murray said despondently.

Nick rubbed his neck: it wasn't fair to let Murray do it alone. “I'll come with you,” he therefore said, at which Murray looked relieved. They went to the pay phone, and Nick listened as his friend was being put through to Joanna's office and talked to her.

“She said she is going to come by as soon as she can,” Murray reported after hanging up.

“Thanks, Boz,” Nick said. He'd probably have forgotten to make the call at all.

Nick then went to the restroom to splash some water into his face, since his eyes were burning with fatigue and from crying. He wasn't ashamed of it, but it made him uncomfortable because it seemed that it was all he could do, and it wasn't helping. He stood at the sink and avoided meeting his own gaze in the mirror, instead recalling Cody's expression just now, which was a mistake. Seeing his eyes, his smile even when they didn't know if he was going to live or not was nothing but cruel.

Biting back a sob, Nick let go of the sink, not even realizing that he had been holding on to it so strongly that his knuckles turned white, but it was a bad idea, as he found himself on the floor two seconds later. The fear of losing the most important person in one's life really could bring a grown man to his knees.

Cody's mother arrived soon afterwards. She hugged Murray, who was still waiting outside the nurses' station, and anxiously asked him how Cody was doing. Murray told her what had transpired, at which she paled.

“The doctor's still in there,” Murray said. “If you'd like to speak to him.”

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” she said, her voice tremulous, “and where's Nick?”

Just then, Nick came back from the restroom. He looked ghastly, but when he saw Mrs. Allen, he visibly pulled himself together. They hugged briefly, though understandably, Mrs. Allen was impatient to see Cody; she had been nervous during the entire flight, hoping and praying she wasn't going to be too late.

“I could do with some more coffee and a sandwich,” Murray said once she had disappeared in the ICU. “Do you mind if I go and see what they've got in the cafeteria downstairs?”

Nick shook his head: “'Course not, Boz.”

“I don't suppose you want to come with me, but can I bring you anything?”

“No, thanks.”

“You haven't eaten anything today,” Murray cautiously reminded him.

“I'm not hungry.” The thought of food alone was making him queasy: anxiety and his stomach didn't go well together.

“Okay. I'll be quick.” Murray gave Nick a smile that he hoped was encouraging and headed towards the elevator.

Leaning against the wall, Nick put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath: a glance at his watch had told him it was almost noon. Roughly nine hours till the 24-hour mark, if that initial assessment was still valid at all. He should have asked the doctor, should have kept it together instead of falling apart. It happened, at times, to both of them- sometimes, memories of the war came back to haunt them and chased them out of their sleep, or something bad happened, like Cody's father dying or Nick's mom all but cutting him off because he was living with a man. Usually though, they had each other for comfort, and that made everything bearable in the long run.

He closed his eyes: if Cody didn't make it, he wasn't going to either, that much was certain. Without Cody, he didn't have a reason to get up in the morning.

He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard his name: it was Mrs. Allen. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she seemed more composed than upon her arrival.

“They chased me out while they're changing the dressing and whatnot,” she said, obviously trying to sound optimistic. “It's all routine, I guess.”

Nick straightened up: “Thank you for coming,” he said, and his voice was bare of any energy.

Mrs. Allen took in his pale, exhausted face and found her heart swelling with affection for him.

“My dear,” she said softly. “You know that Cody told me how you saved his life in Vietnam, and how he wouldn't have made it through the war without you. Even then, when I barely knew you, I thanked the Lord that Cody's and your paths crossed.” Her eyes were getting moist, and she dabbed at them with a handkerchief: “And I keep thanking him that you two stayed together. It took me a long time to accept Cody's sexual orientation, and I'm not proud of that. But I can see that he's happy with you, and that you two are made for each other. I hope he's making you happy too. Is he making you happy?”

Nick nodded, briefly closing his eyes because they were welling up once more; when he opened them again, tears were running down his cheeks. “It's all mutual,” he said hoarsely, unsteadily. “And he saved my life too, you know? We were... from the first moment on... he's...” His voice gave out at that. Unthinkingly, Mrs Allen took a step towards him and pulled him into her arms.

“He'll get through this,” she whispered, once she had her own voice back under control. “I know he will.”

Shakily, Nick nodded, hoping with all his might that she was right, that some maternal instinct told her what the doctors couldn't. She had already lost her husband, she shouldn't lose her son as well. And from the way she was trembling, he knew that she was as scared as he was, despite her brave demeanour. Therefore he tried to get a grip on himself, to be strong for her, but he wasn't yet ready to let go again, and neither was she, so they held on to each other for a rather long time.

The afternoon seemed endless. Proving that he could be exactly as tenacious as his two partners, Murray had brought Nick a sandwich and a fruit salad from the cafeteria and finally convinced him to eat something while Mrs. Allen stayed with Cody. Nick barely tasted anything and didn't feel like eating, but his hands had begun trembling at one point because his blood sugar was probably low. After just a few bites however he felt so queasy again that he put the sandwich down: “Sorry,” he said softly. “I can't.”

Murray eyed him with concern, but didn't say anything, just reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

In the early evening, Joanna came by. Murray introduced her to Cody's mom, who had also been to the cafeteria very briefly to get some tea while Nick was with Cody again. Dr. Selby had stopped by once more before the end of his shift, but Nick hadn't come back out, so Murray was secretly glad about the distraction.

“I've heard so much about you,” Mrs. Allen said, shaking Joanna's hand. “I've got to say that I'm very glad my boys have someone on the force who's looking out for them.”

“It's my pleasure,” Joanna said warmly, reaching for Murray's arm and squeezing it. “They're looking out for me as well.”

At that, Murray nodded, blushing a little.

Neither of them noticed Nick approaching at first; when he came to stand next to Joanna, everyone turned to look at him, and for a moment, nobody spoke.

Nick's face was wet with tears again, causing not only Murray's stomach to drop unpleasantly, but then Nick slowly broke into a watery smile: “The fever's receding,” he said chokedly. “He's responding well to the medication according to Dr. Selby, and the arrhythmia has stopped too. If nothing else comes up, he's gonna be fine.”

At that, the other three cheered but still teared up as well; overjoyed, the fell into each other's arms, laughing and crying at the same time. When they eventually let go, Mrs. Allen wanted to go see for herself.

“I've also got to go,” Joanna said, “but I'll check in with you later, all right?”

She had barely left when Nick suddenly staggered. Murray quickly grabbed his arm, and Nick lowered himself to the floor to lean against the wall, shaking and white-faced.

Murray knelt down next to him with a stern face: “Will you eat something now or do I have to call a nurse?”

Nick quickly nodded: “Okay, okay. Don't fuss.”

Murray only shook his head as he was getting to his feet and muttered something about pigheadedness.

As relieved as they were, Nick and Murray still didn't dare to go home. While Mrs. Allen eventually left for the night to stay at a hotel, they went to the waiting room once more and sat down. Nick leaned back and closed his tired eyes, and it didn't take him more than two minutes to fall asleep.

Murray waited for a while, then he lifted Nick's feet onto the couch, which caused him to shift a little and open his eyes, but Murray immediately told him all was well, so he closed his eyes again and shifted a little more until he was comfortable. Satisfied, Murray settled down on the other couch, soon dozing off as well.

“Who put you through the wringer?” was the first thing Cody said to Nick and Murray on the following morning after looking from one to the other. His voice was weak and brittle, but he was awake and lucid, and even though he looked as though he was going to nod off again any minute, his partners were over the moon.

Nick squeezed Cody's hand; he was so happy to hear him talk that he couldn't stop beaming: “We're fine. Just a little short on sleep.”

“You look much better though,” Murray said. “How are you feeling?”

“Kinda floaty,” Cody replied. “'n tired.”

“Well, you should rest,” Murray folded his hands in front of his chest. “I'm so glad you're okay, Cody! I'll give you two some space, okay?”

“No, Murray, stay...” Nick began, but Murray patted his shoulder: “I'll distract the nurses,” he said sotto voce. “You got two minutes.”

Cody gave him a weary smile, then he looked from Murray to Nick, squeezing back: “Hey,” he said even more softly. “Any chance for a kiss?”

Nick moved closer: “Thanks to Boz, yeah, I think so.” He leaned over the bed rail and gently kissed Cody, then he lingered, his face against his partner's: “Missed you,” he muttered into Cody's skin.

Despite being rather groggy, Cody had noticed the dark shadows underneath Nick's eyes and how worn he and Murray looked; it must have been bad. Well, that his mother had come all the way from Minnesota should be telling him something.

“I'm here,” he therefore murmured, stealing another kiss. “I love you, Nicky.”

“I love you more,” Nick breathed. Cody felt the tears before he saw them.

“Sorry,” Nick wiped his eyes with his free hand as he straightened up.

Cody looked at him fondly: “I'mma go back to sleep,” he murmured. “More kisses when I wake up?”

“You can count on that,” Nick said, his thumb caressing Cody's hand. “I'll be here.”

Around noon, Cody was transferred to a surgical ward. He was asleep most of the time, but Nick, Murray and his mom stayed with him nevertheless, either in turns or together. He was lucid every time he woke up, rather high on morphine and still very tired.

“You don't have to stay,” he murmured that evening as Nick helped him drink some water. “Look knackered, Baby.”

Nick put the cup down: “Don't you worry about me, big guy,” he said softly, the corners of his mouth quirking up as he regarded Cody now. “I'm just fine.”

That night, Murray and Nick finally went home nevertheless to shower and sleep in a bed for a change.

“Hey, Boz?” Nick said in the salon before turning towards the stairs. “Thank you. Without you, I'd probably have lost it.”

Murray looked proud: “We're family, right?”

“Yeah,” Nick smiled a little even as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. “We are.”

Murray was still beaming as he climbed into bed a little later.

Down in Cody's and his stateroom, Nick crawled onto the mattress feeling leaden with fatigue now that he was home. He burrowed into the pillow, pulled the covers up around him and was out like a light.

Ten days Cody had to stay in the hospital. His mother went home after a week, since he was improving steadily. When she kissed him goodbye, she stroked his cheek: “Give me a call when you're back on the boat,” she said.

“I will.” Cody smiled: “Thank you for coming, Mom. I'm sorry for giving you such a scare.” He highly appreciated that she hadn't once blamed the situation on his job. He was certain that she'd have done so only a year ago, would have railed against the danger he voluntarily put himself in.

“Just don't do something like that again,” she now replied drily.

“I better not,” Cody deadpanned. “Nick'd have my head.”

Mrs. Allen nodded: “You've got to take good care of him, darling,” she said, a little more serious. “He was in a really bad shape while we didn't know if you'd pull through.” Her voice wavered a bit at those words, but Cody barely noticed it. “He was?”

“Yeah,” Mrs. Allen nodded. “I don't know him as well as you do, of course, but I vividly remember that Christmas he spent with us, back in '72. He was just a scrawny lil' thing back then, when you looked past his bravado.” Despite himself, Cody couldn't help but grin: Nick would have begged to differ, had he heard this. And he himself would never have described Nick as scrawny or little, but maybe it was a matter of perspective.

His mother smiled sadly at the memory: “And he was unhappy, only he hid it very well. I caught him staring at the phone once, though he didn't notice me. He was looking so forlorn...” She shook her head. “I don't understand that mother of his, let me tell you.”

Cody sighed: “Neither do I,” he said softly.

His mom regarded him: “Well, he's got us now. And I never want to see him as shaken up as last week again, you hear me?”

Cody raised an eyebrow: “Shouldn't you be telling him not to make _me_ unhappy, not the other way round?” But he knew what she meant, and he was grateful that she was holding Nick so dear.

“I love you,” he said, at which she kissed him again: “I love you too, Sweetheart. Bye now.”

“Have a good trip. Bye, Mom.”

A few seconds later, Nick popped his head around the door: “I'll take your mom to the airport, then I'll make a detour to the _Riptide_ and be back before you know it, okay?”

“Take your time,” Cody said, “there's no need to hurry. Say hello to my boat though.” He was in fact rather groggy from the breathing exercises he had to do as part of his physical therapy and felt like taking a nap.

Nick winked at him, then he was gone. Cody closed his eyes, but he kept pondering what his mom had said, and it took a while for him to doze off.

Two hours later, Nick and Murray came in just as Cody was frowning at his dinner. He was glad about the distraction: “Hey, guys.”

“Hey, big guy.” Nick was carrying a box. “What's that?”

“A challenge,” Cody wrinkled his nose. “Some kind of meat loaf and what looks like brussel sprouts.”

Murray shuddered and put the bag he had brought next to Cody's hip: “Here, I went to the library and got you a few magazines.”

“Thanks, Boz, that's great.”

Murray smiled: “And Nick's brought you something to eat. Looks like we're right on time!”

At that, Cody's eyes lit up: “You did?”

“Minestra del Paradiso,” Nick said, taking a container out of the box, “and Focaccia.”

“I love you,” Cody breathed, taking in the scent as Nick opened the container. “When did you make this?”

“This morning.”

Cody ate slowly and with relish; some colour had returned to his face in the meantime, and Nick could have watched him all day. When he was finished, Cody leaned back with a satisfied hum: “That was delicious. If we ever give up detecting, we should open a restaurant.”

Murray glanced from him to Nick: “Are you thinking about giving up the business, Cody?”

“No, of course not.” Cody frowned, looking at each of them: “Are you?”

Nick, who was leaning against the foot of the bed with his arms folded in front of his chest, rubbed his neck: “To be honest: we were going to ask you if you wanted to continue, after what happened.”

“It's not uncommon to review one's life choices after a major traumatic event, after all,” Murray added. “We thought that you'd maybe not want to take these kind of risks anymore.”

For a moment, Cody just stared at them, then he laughed, but quickly aborted it with a small gasp because it still hurt: “Guys- is this a joke? We're not giving up the business because of me getting shot. Shit like this happens.”

Nick and Murray exchanged another glance, but didn't say anything.

Cody narrowed his eyes: “Is this because of Tricor? Because I wanted out that one time?”

“Look, Cody,” Murray began. “If we had sold the agency back then- and I'm not saying to Tricor, because we all know how that went down. But if we had sold it or given it up or whatever, you'd probably be doing something else nowadays. Something safer.”

“Guys,” Cody pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'd probably be taking tourists water-skiing again if we had given up the agency. I was stupid back then. I've realized that I don't need Argyle socks in my life to be happy.”

“You don't have to justify yourself,” Nick said gently. “All we talked about is that it wouldn't be right to carry on with the agency if one of us felt bad about it.”

“Okay.” Cody beckoned both of them closer: “Come here, will you?”

When they stood on either side of the bed, he reached for their hands: “I'm fine. It was an accident. I don't want to give up what we're doing, and if you're both still in as well, the agency is still up and running. Well. It will be again, soon.”

Relieved, Nick and Murray shook his hands.

“I'm sorry I put you through all this,” Cody said soberly once they had let go again.

“Not your fault, Buddy,” Nick said, at which Murray nodded vigorously: “We'll have to be more careful in the future. I've already begun to work on a program for the Roboz that detects if people are carrying firearms, which could be tremendously helpful.”

Nick frowned: “Does that mean we'll have to take the Roboz with us every time we're going somewhere?”

“Well, yeah,” Murray scratched his head. “Maybe I'll build a smaller version of him. Roboz-to-go, so to speak.” He giggled.

Amused, Nick looked at Cody, who was regarding them with a serene expression: “I can't wait to get back to the _Riptide_.”

The first night back on the boat, Cody sat on the bed and looked around their stateroom with a pleased smile: “I've missed home.”

Nick, who was putting Cody's things away, turned towards him: “Home sure missed you too,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

Cody reached for him, and Nick closed the wardrobe and sat down next to him; immediately, they wrapped their arms around one another and just held each other close. Nick pressed his nose against his partner's skin and inhaled deeply, unbothered by the faint lingering hospital scent: underneath it, it was pure Cody.

“Let's not do this ever again,” he said softly, muffled by Cody's hoodie.

Cody smiled into his hair: “I'm not planning on it.”

Nick gently pulled back a little: “Are you really okay?” he asked, and his eyes were filled with concern.

“I am. I don't even remember anything.” Cody regarded him: “Are _you_ okay?”

Nick couldn't lie to him. “It was hard,” he admitted. “If Murray hadn't been there, I don't know what I'd done.” And it was going to be even harder, once they were back at work. Every time someone was going to draw a gun on them or it was going to look like someone was, he was probably going to freak out.

“I'm sorry,” Cody said tenderly, reaching up to caress Nick's cheek.

Nick closed his eyes, savouring the touch: “Not your fault,” he repeated in a whisper.

“Would you really have given up the agency if I had wanted out?” Cody then asked so softly it was barely audible.

“At once,” Nick repeated without hesitation. He wasn't going to let anything come between them ever again, no matter the cost.

Cody pulled him close once more and they stayed like that for a while, breathing each other in and riding out the aftershocks of having survived what could easily have ended in a disaster.

On the following morning, Nick made banana-caramel pancakes; even Murray passed up his usual bowl of cereal for those.

Cody inhaled deeply as he came down into the galley, savouring the scents: he was still moving slowly, but he was doing okay, considering, not least thanks to his generally well-trained physique, according to Dr. Selby. All of them had lost a little weight recently though, so they could do with a decent breakfast.

“I hope this didn't set us back financially,” Cody said later as they were sitting on the stern bench soaking up some sun, his pending medical bills and all the lost time in mind.

“Oh, there's no need to worry,” Murray reassured him. “We've figured it all out. I'm going to freelance with a company that belongs to Andy- you know, Fitzsimmons? They want a secure internal network, and they're paying well. It'll take me about three weeks to set up. And Nick's going to take on cargo flights until we're fully operational again.”

Cody was relieved: “That's really boss, guys.”

Murray grinned: “It'll keep us afloat, literally.”

“Dooley volunteered to drive you to PT and doctor's appointments if we're not around,” Nick said.

“Yeah, when he visited me, he told me to give him a call if I needed anything.”

Cody closed his eyes and lifted his head a little: “I could take a nap.” He had missed being outside.

Nick regarded him with a small smile, happy about Cody's obvious lightheartedness: “Do,” he said softly. “You got all the time in the world.” He didn't need to remind him that he was still healing, after all, and he didn't want to put a damper on his high spirits.

“I'll get out the deck chair,” Murray volunteered.

“Chairs,” Cody said.

“What?”

“Chair_s_ . You guys are staying with me, right? After all, the past ten days haven't exactly been a picnic for you either.”

Murray considered this: he had planned on working on the new firearm detection program, as he wasn't going to have that much time for it once he was working for Andy's company. But on the other hand: for roughly 21 hours, he hadn't known if he'd ever have this again, and it had been one of the most harrowing experiences of his life. He had never seen Nick so devastated either, and he was convinced that Cody's death would have destroyed Nick as well. He'd have lost the only true friends he ever had. But now they were on the mend, all of them. No computer could compete with this, so he nodded: “Okay. Chair_s_ .”

Nick helped him to set the chairs up, though Cody opted to stretch out on the bench. With a thick pillow behind his back and Nick within easy reach, he sighed contentedly: “Thank you for everything, guys. I love you.”

“I can honestly say that the feeling is reciprocated,” Murray said solemnly, while Nick just squeezed Cody's hand.

Ten minutes later, all three of them had dozed off, lulled to sleep by the ever so gentle rocking motion of the _Riptide_.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I'm not a Native Speaker, therefore I apologize for any mistakes. I'm also not working in a medical field, though I did a lot of research and hope the medical content is not too far-fetched.


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